Tuesday, November 15, 2011

3 poems found, resurfaced, raw

Not my favorite genre. That's why I experiment with it from time to time.

Pondering Vishnu

…and now the dreamt dream dreams, and sons carry fathers on their backs. Still the rock needs defining, and the hypnotic water reflects deeper yearnings than the sturdiest of minds. The arithmetic of soaring doves, the pattern of a pinecone expresses perfection finer thana² + b² = c².

The supreme soul, all pervading, let the eye in heaven expound, let the blue clouds communicate their comprehension, and distill the dew of familiarity over the quiet earth. Clap shut the books, abandon the cramped classrooms, and teachers drop the chalk. Let the dream still be dreamt the way it always has, supinely, two eyes staring into the vastness of heaven and wondering what it all means.

…I watch as she performs the task of folding the towels in exact squares, creasing them with conciseness, stacking them in rows of symmetrical perfection. I watch all this and I know I am caught in a trouble that is beyond repair.

“Waiting for Fall”

A lone man in the garden must ponder everything—give a name to everything—even to a nameless shape that twists inside—the shadow that clouds the mind.

My family tree is deciduous.

Its leaves must fall to the ground

—blanket the earth with the impotent,

lifeless,

discarded carcasses

—good for nothing but crackling under the feet of little children and leaving bare the thing that breathed life into them.